The Best Laid Plans
by Sigridhr
Summary: Or, how Darcy took action, got her man, and accidentally ended the world. [CRACK]


**Notes:** Based on the following prompt from amidtheflowers: Darcy sees Loki at a Shield party, and ever since she makes (failed) attempts to get him to notice her.

I was not kidding about the crack.

* * *

It was fair to say that Darcy's life had not turned out as she'd expected.

She had, for a start, not become rich and famous. Nor had she married anyone rich and famous, although she had once turned down a drunken (and not very serious) offer for a one night stand from Tony Stark, and, since he was the only rich and famous person she knew, her plans of wowing him with her mad skills in bed and then making him fall in love with her through the power of her pillow talk and living the rest of their days in rich (oh, so, _very_ rich) bliss were pretty much off the table. She probably would've settled for just 'famous' if she'd thought any of her minor crushes on some of the hunkier members of the Avengers were in any way reciprocated, but they weren't so she didn't.

And, really, that was OK. Because they were always the 'doodles on the back of a napkin' kind of crush, that were more speculative than need-driven. And she hadn't really had a crush on Tony at all, at least, not after she'd spent five minutes with him. And five with Pepper.

Sure, her life currently involved a lot more temp work and a lot less sitting on the beach than she'd originally drafted out, but it also involved superheroes.

She'd've been mental to complain. And she wasn't mental. Yet.

There was, however, one really, really big problem. A really, really big, six-foot-one problem with a really, really fucking suave suit, and green eyes, and a tendency to murder people. Which was surprisingly less off-putting than she'd've thought. Because, you know, murder – not really a turn on. But apparently it didn't count for much where her hormones were concerned, because _whoa_.

She'd seen him from across the room at Stark's New Year's party, talking to Thor and looking around like he thought everyone in the room ought to drop dead instantly. She'd seen the long, lithe line of his body, his fingers tracing patterns in the air as he gesticulated, and the god-awful noise Tony Stark considered 'music' seemed to (thank god) fade out into the background as her heart pounded and her lady bits did an inappropriate rendition of hallelujah. Or something like it.

She was definitely not going to do anything about it, though. She made a list of reasons why she wasn't going to do anything about it, and it went like this:

1) Loki is a (reformed) criminal who used to kill people.

2) Loki is Thor's brother. It would be weird.

3) Loki is a Norse God who was probably born around the time of the dinosaurs. As far as age gaps went, she was certain that this was one her mother would not approve of.

4) Loki was from another planet, and was another species. (She suspected she may have watched too much Star Trek as a kid because inter-species sex just made her wonder whether there was any difference in Jotun and human reproductive systems. This lead to some speculative googling of Star Trek fan fiction, which in turn lead to her trying to clean her brain out with bleach).

5) Loki had no clue she even existed.

Then, at the bottom of the list, she started writing their names together and drawing little hearts around them. And looking his name up in Norse Runes and writing it in tiny letters on the inside of her thumb, then scrubbing it off in embarrassment.

Oh, god, this was _sickening_.

On Monday, she pulled the list out of her drawer and scratched off number two. The _post hoc_rationalization went like this:

Thor was a friend, and also a fairly cool dude (if you can get past the cup-smashing thing). Also, Loki is adopted. This is less weird, somehow. And Thor is always saying Loki needs to be welcomed here, and complaining about how Loki doesn't fit in.

He could fit himself in Darcy _anytime_.

That was terrible, Darcy thought. And then spent the rest of the evening thinking up even worse double-entendres about Loki and his – err – yes.

On Tuesday, she scratched number four off the list. The Star Trek porn got to her, as it does to everyone, in the end.

Wednesday said goodbye to number three (old people have the best stories! Plus, he didn't look old, so it didn't count), and number one because, well, it was clear where this was going.

That left number five.

So, Darcy tucked her old list away in the back of her drawer and started a new one. It went like this:

Plan A:

1) Get Loki to notice me.

1a) He hangs out in the lab with Thor sometimes, and I work there with Jane sometimes. Now, I have to just make our sometimes be the same sometimes, and then do something impressive.

1b) Figure out how to do something impressive.

2) Do something impressive in front of Loki.

3) Profit.

On the following Monday, which she spent, like she had spent every day previous, hanging around the lab offering to do things for Jane (who was growing increasingly suspicious) in the hopes that Loki might turn up, Loki did, in fact, turn up.

He was standing behind Thor, looking miserable and slightly murderous, which was a bad sign on someone who had in the past been, well, _murderous_ .

Still, she thought to herself, no time like the present. Jane went over to Thor looking a little overly-pleased to see someone she'd seen not three hours ago. She gave Loki a conspicuous wide-berth, and Loki seemed like he might be trying to cause her to spontaneously combust with the power of his brain.

The board was set. It was time for Plan A. She hummed the Mission Impossible theme under her breath.

To say Plan A was a bit unsuccessful, would be to commit the greatest act of understatement since one of Darcy's classmates had called the Battle of the Somme a 'minor skirmish' in History class.

The plan was to start by talking to Loki, and introducing herself, and then to assist Jane in the testing of the Bifrost device she'd been building. She made it around the bench to stand beside Loki, and, after awkwardly rocking back and forth on her heels, she managed to say, "hello."

Loki stared at her like he'd just realized that she was there at all.

"Can I get you some tea?" she asked. He had to like tea. Everyone liked tea.

He didn't actually reply, but he sort of nodded (at least she thought it might've been a nod. It could also have been a suppressed yawn), so she went off to make it anyway.

"We're ready to test," Jane was saying. Darcy flicked the kettle on, and pulled a mug out of the cupboard.

"Darcy, we're turning it on."

"Right," Darcy said, taking up her position as official watcher of the numbers on the screen. Jane's Bifrost hummed to life, whirring and banging like a cantankerous old robot. It started to glow, a faint bluish-white, and Jane was practically bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement.

Then, it all went to shit. There was a loud bang, and sparks flew from the Bifrost as every single warning siren in the lab went off at the same time.

"What happened?" Darcy shouted, as Jane shoved her out of the way to examine the readings.

"Power overload. We've fried the circuits," Jane said. "I don't understand, there ought to have been enough."

A spark flew from the Bifrost and landed on Jane's notes. There a decisive pause, and then, with a melodramatic whoosh, it all went up in flames.

The overhead sprinklers came on, drenching them all.

"Well," said Loki, dryly. "That was impressive."

Jane turned with exaggerated slowness to Darcy. "Darcy," she said, in the sort of voice that was forcibly slow and made it sound like she wanted to tear Darcy's ribcage out and make her wear it as a hat. "Please tell me you didn't have any other electronics plugged in."

There was a very long, very awkward moment.

"Who the hell builds something that can be set on fire by a _kettle_?" Darcy asked.

So, yes, Plan A was a failure.

But failures were, Darcy reminded herself, nothing more than learning experiences. Failure is what happens when you don't pick yourself up and move on, she told herself, along with several other trite inspirational phrases that she would have been embarrassed to read on a poster but would occasionally scribble on bright sticky notes in gel pens and stash away for rainy days. Still, there was always plan B. No point in assuming that would be a failure – after all, pessimism was just something for people who wanted to be disappointed both before _and _after the fact. Plus, it was unlikely that plan B would also end in a lab fire.

Twice in a row had to be extremely long odds.

It was time for Plan B. Plan B was far superior to Plan A, in that it contained the following bulletin point: 'Do not set fire to anything'. This seemed a sensible precaution, all things considered.

It took about two weeks to get Plan B mobilized, because Loki had been avoiding the lab, and Jane had been grumbling around furiously and refusing to let Darcy in (forcing Darcy to actually sit down and do the paperwork that was officially part of her job description. Or, at least, do as little as possible of while still giving the appearance of working hard).

But, on a rainy Thursday afternoon, Plan B was finally afoot.

In some regards, Plan B was much more successful than Plan A. In others, however, it was a complete and unmitigated disaster.

She wasn't sure how it happened, really. It seemed so completely, implausibly _ludicrous_ looking back on it, but it _had_ definitely happened.

All she'd done, was walk over towards Loki in order to strike up a conversation. It was emphatically _not _her fault that she'd tripped over the exposed wires, really, really _not_ her fault that she'd spilt tea on the computer, and extremely absolutely positively _not_ her fault that the tea had caused the Bifrost to malfunction and open a portal to some hitherto unknown alien tentacle monster dimension.

Really.

And, it wasn't so bad. She couldn't really understand why they were making such a fuss about it – Thor had killed them all, Jane had shut the portal, and Loki had stood there staring at everything with a sense of bemusement and condescension. So, really, everything was alright in the end.

After Thor had finished with the tentacle monsters, Loki'd walked up to them and nudged one with his toe.

"I have never seen these creatures before," he'd said. Then he'd turned and looked straight at her, looking speculative.

_Success_, Darcy thought.

So, it was clearly time for Plan C. Plan C was not going to involve aliens, it was not going to involve fire, and it was definitely going to involve conversation and possibly drinks. Because Darcy was a wizard at dating, and Loki was a viking god. So, _drinks_. Clearly.

Plan C was her best plan. Her masterpiece. Her _pièce de résistance_.

It was going to work.

I did. Work, that is, though not in the way she'd expected.

It did start out with drinks, at another one of Stark's parties (Tony Stark's St Patrick's day party was phenomenally good. And phenomenally green). She'd sidled up to the bar, pretty damn smoothly if she said so herself, ordered a drink for herself and Loki, and watched as he, still giving her that odd, speculative look, had gingerly taken it in his hands and sipped genteelly.

Then she'd started talking. And talking. And talking. And, astonishingly, he didn't walk away. Which, in hindsight, given what happened next, he probably should have.

See, she may have accidentally goaded him a little bit into doing some magic. And then belligerently insisted everything he'd done (turning her clothes green, summoning a giant elk from Alfheim, transporting her across the room) wasn't really _that_ impressive. She felt like an idiot doing it, but there was something in her that had never outgrown the kindergarden lesson that teasing was an acceptable form of expressing desire.

So, when he started up his next trick, she was just drunk enough, and just stupid enough, to grab hold of his hands.

It was immediately apparent that this was a Very Bad Idea. There was a loud crack, and the ground shook, and out the window she could see a great column of water rising up from the bay.

Thor _lost his shit._ "Ragnarok! It is Ragnarok!" he said. Loki burst out laughing – huge, belly shaking guffaws as he stared at her in amazement.

"I'm really, really sorry," said Darcy, letting go of his hands and putting hers awkwardly behind her back.

Thor was still running around shouting, "the end is nigh!"

"What _are _you?" Loki asked in astonishment, taking her face in his hands.

"Well," said Darcy. "I used to be a Girl Scout, which, I think if they saw me now, they might kick me out of the club."

"You are _marvellous,_" said Loki. "This is better than I could have hoped for."

"Is it?" Darcy asked, faintly. "Because I think it's a bit crap, really. I like being alive, if I'm honest about it."

"No, no, no!" Loki replied, tugging her to his side and wrapping his arm firmly around her waist. "I had planned to destroy SHIELD from the inside. This is much more efficient. You have a truly remarkable mind."

"Uhm," said Darcy, who was starting to think that Plan C may have been a touch ill-considered.

"Come," he said. "And we shall watch the world burn."

And they did. Though, Darcy made them stop for one last ice cream on the way.


End file.
